


Sedated

by neversaydie



Series: cock it and pull it [29]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Violence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, ben is having a really hard time right now, losing a pet, post episode 73, sammy is trying really hard to stow his own hard time to deal with ben's hard time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: Gunderson and his goons hold Ben for a full seventy-two hours of 'questioning' before they let him make bail. Sammy's waiting outside the Sheriff's Department when he gets free, concern immediately ramping up to anger when Ben limps out into the sunshine tiredly, carrying his belongings in a paper bag and holding himself gingerly like he's in pain."What did they do to you?" Sammy barely restrains himself from grabbing Ben to make sure he's okay, starting for the door when his friend doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm gonna kill that son of a-""Sammy," Ben stops him wearily, drawn and hoarse. "Can we just go?"[in which Ben gets out of jail, and everything is crumbling.]





	Sedated

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna say this will suffice for my informal angst war entry.

Gunderson and his goons hold Ben for a full seventy-two hours of 'questioning' before they let him make bail. Sammy's waiting outside the Sheriff's Department when he gets free, concern immediately ramping up to anger when Ben limps out into the sunshine tiredly, carrying his belongings in a paper bag and holding himself gingerly like he's in pain. 

"What did they do to you?" Sammy barely restrains himself from grabbing Ben to make sure he's okay, starting for the door when his friend doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm gonna kill that son of a-"

"Sammy," Ben stops him wearily, drawn and hoarse. He has one arm wrapped around his ribs, and Sammy's been in enough bar fights over the years to recognise bruises without having to see them up close. "Can we go? I just wanna take a shower."

"Sure, of course," Sammy takes the bag with Ben's wallet and keys in it, mainly to feel like he's doing  _ something _ to help, and steers him to the car. He grits his teeth at the careful way Ben climbs into the passenger seat, and can't hold himself back from pushing the subject before they leave. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I was… not cooperative," Ben mutters, and the vicious little grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth tells Sammy that he is mostly okay, despite how young and tired and  _ wounded  _ he looks after the whole ordeal. "But I didn't tell them anything. And the lawyer says they'll have to drop the assault charges since we have the provocation on air, so…"

"That's good," it's what Sammy expected, considering he's already made multiple copies of the show tape and squirrelled them away in various locations to prevent another Frickard-style destruction of evidence. "Do you wanna…"

The mere suggestion of leaving is enough to bring reality crashing down around their ears.

"Oh, god. I can't go back to my place. It's gonna be..." Ben blanches and leans forward suddenly when the thought occurs to him, and Sammy would be worried about his car's interior if he gave a shit about anything but his friend's well being right now. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is… pieces… I haven't kept anything down for days, man. I know I've gotta take care of things, but I-I can't…"

"Hey, it's okay. We dealt with it already," Sammy rubs Ben's back gently as he screws his eyes tightly shut, willing the graphic images of his dead pet away. "We're gonna go to Emily's, okay? She grabbed some stuff from your place and said you can stay as long as you need."

"I thought you were in her guest room right now?" While Sammy has actively resisted Ben's efforts to discuss his whole  _ being passively suicidal _ thing, Emily has been more willing to share in the name of keeping one third of their little trio safe. Considering he's now experienced the worry himself, picturing god knows what happening to Ben in a cell - where he  _ couldn't get to him _ \- Sammy can't be mad about it.

"My elderly back can handle a couch."

"You sure? I mean, you're pretty old," it's a weak quip at best, but it's enough to reassure Sammy into starting the car.

The ride across town is silent, which isn't much of a surprise, and Sammy's slightly relieved that Emily isn't home when they get to her apartment. Ben takes a long, hot shower, steals Emily's purple unicorn hoodie instead of wearing one of his own… and then spends the afternoon getting drunk on the vodka he and Emily have stashed away for their weekly 'cocktail night'... which Sammy generously doesn't question, if only because it doesn't feel like the time for jokes. 

Sammy can't blame him for wanting to get out of his head for a while. He did his time in a haze after… well, for most of his twenties, if he's honest, but things really went to shit when Jack first disappeared. Losing a pet isn't comparable to losing a partner, but Peas' death isn't the only thing Ben's going through right now. 

He's been arrested on-air, still has to go to court, faced the kind of mistreatment which made Sammy nag him into taking pictures of the bruises on his torso (they're not too bad, but all that does is convince Sammy that Gunderson's lackeys know where to punch), and will soon have to deal with losing his best…

Sammy doesn't let himself think about that part, or he'll start drinking too. 

By the time Emily gets home from visiting her mom, Sammy has stress-cleaned the kitchen for lack of anything more productive to do, and is trying not to hover while Ben makes sardonic comments about whichever season of Drag Race he's half-watching on Netflix. He hasn't moved since he sat down except to go take a piss, and even shuffling to the bathroom seems like way too much effort if the way he moves like he's wading through treacle is anything to go by. 

Sammy can just see the inertia beginning - the horrible, blank stillness, the paralysis of being unable to comprehend what's happening so intensely that it's easier to just let it all wash away. He'd felt it after Jack, after the initial jittery, panicked energy ran out and he'd stopped going to work until Lily came over to yell at him for not doing more. He'd felt it again after… what happened with Frickard, and had only managed to force himself out of the funk (after locking himself in his apartment for two weeks straight) by reminding himself time and again that he was never going to have to see any of these people again after just a few more weeks. 

It had worked until he'd walked into the studio and… then it didn't work anymore, because in that moment, the prospect of not seeing Ben and Emily again was worse than being gossiped about at the grocery store. 

Emily doesn't hesitate when she sees her boyfriend (? Sammy hasn't pried too much lately, they've had more than enough of that), dumping her bag before immediately plopping down on the couch to give Ben a hug. He practically melts into her arms and hides his face in her shoulder, and why didn't Sammy think of that? He's always been weird about contact with other guys, always hyper-aware of ensuring a 'no homo' was in place before he inadvertently 'homo-ed' it up and made things weird. But it's Ben - how could he not have thought to give him a hug?

Sometimes Sammy worries that Jack was right - that his closet shit hadn't just broken them, but broken  _ him _ on a fundamental level too. Has he really trained himself out of being affectionate to people he likes?

He busies himself in the kitchen to give Ben and Emily some privacy, trying not to think too hard as he heats up the leftovers from last night's lasagne. Emily has a shift at the library this evening (although Sammy's not sure if she'll go, considering the state Ben's in), and it's kind of nice to be living with someone and working around their meal schedule again, rather than just shoving a candy bar in his mouth whenever he gets lightheaded. If he lets himself think about it, it's not hard to see his friends may be kind of right about what a disaster he's been lately. 

But still, none of this is about him, so he just keeps his hands busy and works on not forming coherent thoughts about anything at all. They don't really have room for him to be messed up right now, not when Ben's hanging by a thread. 

Emily does end up going to work, after Ben looks like he might just pass out on the couch and find a little peace - lasagne congealed and untouched on the coffee table in front of him. Merv has suspended the both of them for the next week, because of the whole fighting members of law enforcement on air  _ thing _ , so Sammy prepares himself for an early night of staring at the guest room ceiling after Ben falls asleep. 

That is, until his friend jerks up from his half-doze with a start, eyes wide and panicked until he catches sight of Sammy and all the air leaves his lungs in a rush of relief. Okay, Sammy's not leaving him alone right now. 

"You wanna watch a movie?" He sits at the other end of the couch, something in his chest unclenching when Ben shoves his feet into his lap with that casual intimacy Sammy doesn't think he'll ever be able to master. 

"What movie?" Ben has clearly decided sleeping is a bad idea, and is already pouring himself another vodka and mountain dew mix with the blank resignation of someone who isn't thinking as far ahead as a hangover. They're usually awake at this time, anyway.

"Uh…" suddenly all Sammy can think of is 'All Dogs Go To Heaven', 'Marley and Me', or 'Pet Semetary'... because his brain is used to functioning with anxiety and hates him. He grabs the remote and turns off RuPaul, wisely deciding to browse instead of making any touchy suggestions. "Like an action movie, or…"

"I don't care," Ben cuts him off abruptly, taking a long drink and sinking back into his corner, voice rough and flat. He clears his throat, glancing sideways at Sammy before shuffling a little closer to his friend - tentative, like he's not sure he's allowed. "Maybe not… Maybe something happy."

"Okay," Sammy squeezes Ben's ankle, forcing himself not to tense up when he realises he  _ hasn't  _ trained himself out of affection after all, and opens up the comedy tab. Comfort. Right. He can do this.

By the end of Groundhog Day (which did  _ not  _ age as well as Sammy had expected), Ben ends up sitting in Sammy's lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck and breath huffing wetly over his friend's skin. He's drunk well beyond the point of self-consciousness by now, shamelessly comforted by the gentle, rhythmic rub of Sammy's hand across his back. He'd crept his way across the couch slowly, waiting for some sign that Sammy was comfortable every time before he moved any closer… until he ended up clinging to him like a baby koala. 

After a brief moment of panic in which he - irrationally - considers if Ben is worried about him making a move (before he reminds himself firmly that it's  _ Ben _ \- who told him he loved him a hundred times in the studio on one of the worst nights of his life, who was the first person Sammy  _ ever  _ told he was in love with a guy and  _ still  _ hugged him after), Sammy wonders if he's really been that obvious about being wary of physical contact since he was outed. So obvious that Ben, even though his drunken, bone-deep sadness, is still careful not to overstep his boundaries. 

Maybe Ben's just a better man than him. Sammy knows that's true regardless. 

"He's gonna be cold, in the ground," Ben mumbles into Sammy's collarbone, stubble scratching on the exposed skin. Sammy hasn't had someone this close to him for more than three years, it's almost surreal to have someone in his arms again. "I don't… he's all alone, Sammy."

"I know, buddy," Sammy shushes him softly, bringing his hand up to stroke Ben's limp curls. There's no point trying to rationalise that Peas isn't feeling much of anything anymore, Ben's not going to hear it. "It's peaceful out there, I promise. Emily even found a little Star of David for a marker."

"He hates being cold. Hated," miserably, Ben sniffles and shakes his head. He's a little slurred now, drunker than Sammy's ever seen him, and he really can't judge the guy. His whole world has fallen apart over the last few months, no wonder it's hitting him so hard.  "I keep seeing… why'd Gunderson have to hurt him?"

"'Cause he's a fucking asshole," Ben makes a weak sound of agreement, and Sammy sighs quietly because there really isn't anything he can do to fix this. He fucking hates being powerless when the people he loves are hurting, and this is just another ugly disaster that convinces him Ben is very much part of that group. "C'mon man, why don't we get you to bed?"

Ben makes a more strident noise at that, tightening his grip on Sammy and shoving his face further into his neck so he can't move. Sammy can feel the wetness Ben isn't letting fall from his eyes smear against his skin, and he swallows another sigh because he can't  _ do  _ this, he isn't someone people turn to for comfort. Jack… Jack would know how to handle this situation properly, but Sammy is stumbling in the dark. 

"You've gotta sleep, Ben. You're exhausted, I'll bet you didn't sleep for the last three days," he tries unsuccessfully to pat his friend on the back and inspire him to move. It's not like Ben's super heavy, but he's also made of muscle in spite of his size and Sammy isn't about to carry a grown man to bed if he doesn't absolutely have to. "C'mon, let's just-"

And suddenly, Ben is kissing him. 

Sammy stops dead in confusion, eyes wide open as Ben clumsily crushes their mouths together. He tastes of sour soda and alcohol, and there's no finesse in it, seemingly very little conscious thought at all aside from the animal instinct to seek touch, find comfort by feeling something other than pain. 

Distantly thinking he should be feeling more freaked out about this than he is, Sammy carefully puts his hand on Ben's shoulder and pushes him away, just enough that the contact is broken. Ben still has his eyes screwed tightly shut, and lets out a little whimper like he  _ needs  _ to be closer, but doesn't lean back in.

"Hey, not like that," Sammy murmurs quietly, voice slightly broken because it's been a very, very long time since anyone kissed him… but the only person he wants to kiss is Jack, period. "Don't do that, buddy."

Ben, when he finally opens his eyes, is crying. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks like he can't even begin to control himself, he looks washed out and young and devastated - utterly destroyed by the last few days and all their accumulated horrors. And now the fear that he's ruined their friendship, on top of it all. 

"M'sorry, Sammy. I-I didn't mean..." he chokes out, hands still curled in Sammy's shirt like he doesn't know how to let go.

"It… It's okay," Sammy doesn't push him away further, because he's no stranger to seeking  _ anything  _ to make his head shut off, even if it's a terrible idea. Ben's so drunk Sammy's fairly convinced he'd try and kiss  _ Pete  _ right now, anyway, and his instinctive fear doesn't kick in at all. "I'm not mad. Just don't do that, okay? You don't need to do that."

"I-I'm sorry. I just… It hurts so bad, and it's gonna be so quiet at my place, and when you go I-I don't know what I'm gonna…" Ben's face crumples as a sob hiccups out of him, unbidden, and Sammy's fractured heart shatters a little more. "You're gonna leave, and I'm gonna be- be all…"

"Ben," Sammy doesn't know what to say, helpless as his best friend breaks down and cries like a little boy with his forehead pressed against his shoulder. Lost for ideas, Sammy puts his arms around Ben and holds him, just lets him get it out. "It's gonna be okay. I promise it's gonna be okay."

Ben shakes his head, face smushed into the already-damp fabric of Sammy's shirt, and Sammy doesn't try to convince him again. He's a little too beyond reason for that… and Sammy doesn't feel right about lying to him, anyway. 

When the sobs stop - when Ben's breathing goes hiccupy and laboured but no longer wet - Sammy manages to get him off the couch. Ben keeps his puffy face hidden in Sammy's shoulder, trusting him completely as he manages to navigate them to Emily's guest room despite his friend's unsteady stumbling. Ben's definitely going to feel how much he drank in the morning… and Sammy's kind of hoping it's enough for him to forget about the whole kiss thing. 

He's not surprised when Ben refuses to let him go to get into bed, and Sammy doesn't even feel too weird about eking out just enough distance between them to take his jeans off before joining Ben under the covers. If he's - he refuses to think  _ abandoning  _ \- leaving the guy to handle this shit alone in a matter of weeks, the least Sammy can do is give him a goddamn hug. Fuck his hangups. 

Ben clings to him like a teddy bear and knocks out almost immediately, twitching in his sleep and muttering about Peas every so often until he's soothed quiet… but Sammy doesn't extricate himself to go sleep on the couch once he has the chance. Instead he runs his thumb over Ben's shoulder (if Ben does remember any of this, he'll definitely make height jokes about him fitting under his arm) and closes his eyes, trying to commit the moment to memory for when he's alone again. 

Sammy sneaks out when the sun comes up, catching a couple of hours on the couch before Emily gets up to start her day. Ben, when he stumbles out bleary and hungover around noon, doesn't remember a thing… though he gives Sammy an unexpected hug when he comes to help him navigate the coffee pot. 

Much to his surprise, Sammy holds back just as tight. They stay like that for a long time, because neither of them are ready to let go. 


End file.
